Page 27

I roll my eyes and lower my feet to the ground on my own, making him move back just a little. It’s a small win. Like regaining some of my territory that I’ve lost throughout this. The Jacobs seem to know how to infiltrate someone’s life.
Wyatt is nowhere to be seen, but the garage door lowers as Stone gestures toward the main walk of the house which Lucas is striding up now. On either side, flowery plants dot the landscaping. Every little detail on the outside of the house has been thought of, even ones I doubt the guys have looked twice at.
“Come on,” Stone says. “It’s just a house.”
I fight the urge to snap at him. Not that he doesn’t deserve it but I’m worried that if I do, he’ll see right through me and realize the discomfort I’m feeling from just being next to a house like this, let alone inside it. Seeing something this nice makes me think about everything I didn’t—and don’t—have. I don’t like feeling this way because I know my father did what he could. At least, he did what he could while also fixating on the treasure. My father was a brilliant man who could have made something of himself. He just had one priority above all else, and that never panned out the way it was supposed to.
“Why do you even want the treasure if you’re already rich?” I ask.
As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. It doesn’t show my discomfort, but it does scream jealousy. Not a good look on anyone.
“It’s not about the gold, Dakota,” Stone says, somehow sounding demeaning and scolding at the same time. “You know that.”
Well, I do. Sort of. The gold would be nice though. When you’re Stone Jacobs, you don’t have to worry about that. You can think about what else the treasure means. Finding a missing piece of history. Getting your names written down in the history books.
Lucas pulls the front door open and looks over his shoulder at us. The look he gives me spurs my feet into gear. I didn’t just drive all the way out here to be too intimidated to walk into a nice house. I know that. As soon as he sees that I’m moving again, he disappears inside, leaving me with Stone, which somehow seems like the greater of two evils.
As I make my way up the stone walkway that’s flecked in colors that reflect the porch light, I try to look at the Jacobs objectively, removing any preconceived notions I might have of them. No matter how hard I try, I still keep coming up with the word assholes. It’s branded in my brain.
If I thought the outside of the house was nice, I wasn’t ready for the inside. It’s a one-level ranch house with everything meticulously decorated right down to the curtain rods. The Spanish-style design boasts white stucco walls. I can’t keep myself from gazing up at the high ceilings and the modern furniture that’s so different from the couch from the 50s that I called my bed back home. If ever there were two homes that were opposite, it’s this one and the house I grew up in.
“I’ll show you around really quick,” Stone says. The door shuts behind me, and beeps sound. I glance over my shoulder to find Stone punching numbers into a keypad. When he turns to find me watching, he shrugs. “Can’t be too safe.”
“Apparently,” I say, lifting my brows. From then on, when he takes me through each room, I spot security cameras in the corners. There’s one in almost every room. It should make me feel safe, but it also sends warning shivers through me too. Who could possibly need this much security?
The kitchen looks like it’s straight out of a spread from a magazine. Stainless steel appliances, white cupboards with a sparkly black countertop. The bathroom just off the hallway is decorated the same. He leads me further into the house where the hall opens up to a room that spans the length of the back wall. Glass walls encase the space that looks out onto a huge pool complete with deck chairs, a hammock, a grill. It’s like Lowe’s threw up on the patio, but even better than that is the backdrop of the same rugged terrain I grew up in overlooking it all. In this light, the mountains couldn’t be more beautiful.
The less-than-picturesque view from my house is out a small window that needs a good scrub to actually be clean. Once I look past the decaying, rusty mailbox, we have partially the same view, but it’s nothing like seeing it like this. These windows bring everything outside in. It’s being one with nature instead of separating us from it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I swallow down the emotion clogging my throat. My first thought is that I wish Dad could see the mountains like this. But I also know he wouldn’t set foot in a Jacobs’ house. Not even if his life depended on it.
I push past the guilt. “It’s...nice,” I say, even though I’m bursting to say more. If Stone was anyone else, I’d gush about how awesome this house is. How beautiful the scenery, and just how crazy it is that the house actually adds to the landscape. It’s not just some metal box that doesn’t go with the terrain. No, the roof is a burnt copper terracotta, matching the color of the mountains in every way.
Stone grits his jaw, a muscle ticking. I almost smile. So, it pisses him off when people don’t gush over his opulence? Good. Now I know.
Wyatt moves past us. He pulls open a square in the glass, revealing that they’re doors. They open like an accordion, bringing the outside in and the inside out. He turns, a mischievous smile on his face, as he drinks from a beer clutched in his hands.
“Come on,” Stone urges.
I bite my lip as I follow them out onto the pool patio. The pool is sunken in, and before my eyes, Wyatt flips a switch that makes pool lights blaze, showing off colors that slowly fade from turquoise to red to green to purple. Other bursts of color light up the surrounding fence every so many feet. He dims them using a remote, the lights turning soft, allowing us to see the mountain landscape again.
Christ, this is the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.
I’m smiling, and when Stone walks past me, he smirks, so I know he’s seen my delight. Fuck. I school my face into a frown. I can’t give him an inch because I have a feeling he’d keep taking and taking until there’s absolutely nothing left of me.
Stone sits in a patio chair while Wyatt shucks his cowboy hat, jeans, and shirt off and jumps into the pool. Stone groans. “How many times do I have to tell you that boxers aren’t acceptable swimwear?”
“A lot,” Wyatt says as he breaks the surface. He knocks on his skull. “Thick head, remember?”
Stone just smiles and shakes his head. Behind me, a sound makes me jump, but when I turn, it’s just Lucas joining the party. He takes a seat on a half-moon type bed that has a wicker sunshade overhanging half of it. He lies right down, taking up all the space just like he did in my car. He winks at me. “Have a seat, Wild Girl.”
“Wild Girl?” Stone scoffs. Then, he scrunches up his face as if he’s thinking it over. “I like it.”
“Too bad. Get another name,” Lucas says. “That one’s taken.”
I decide that Blue’s Clues is much more condescending, so if he wants to call me Wild Girl, I guess he can, even if I don’t measure up to that moniker.